Runescape: Return to Canifis Page 28

  “Hardly very practical for a herald,” William mocked gently.

  Reldo ignored him.

  “No one knows what he offered Lord Ruthven. Some say it was the crown of Misthalin, or wealth to restore his family’s respect and influence, while others say it was his wife’s life, and no one knows what was asked in exchange. But whatever the truth of it, his wife did die. She died horribly.”

  William and Theodore exchanged a look.

  “Well?” the nobleman prompted.

  “I have read an account of her last day, given by her Ladyship’s maid before she died. She dictated it to Papelford some years ago. Of course, he believed it to be the ravings of a mind strained by age. But nonetheless... the wife’s illness worsened. The account says it was a terrible affliction, and that at the end of it black maggots burst from her body to consume her, as punishment for her husband’s refusal to deal with the Gaunt Herald.”

  “And what happened to the child?” Theodore asked.

  Reldo gave a mirthless grin.

  “I don’t know. Lord Ruthven has no children now. It might be she was the price asked for by the Gaunt Herald, and that the lord refused. You have to understand, Sir Theodore, that every man in the Society of the Owl has lost someone they loved to the lord beyond the river, or that is what palace whispers say. I am not yet a member myself.”

  “Do you hope to be, if you have to lose those you love?” the knight asked.

  “In my position as librarian and archivist, Sir Theodore, I should be exempt from that entry requirement. I believe Papelford was, years ago, and though we don’t get along he can’t doubt my ability. I can remember every book I have ever read, chapter and verse. It is Saradomin’s blessing.”

  “We all have the blessing of the gods upon us, one way or the other,” William said darkly.

  “And who has Lord Despaard lost that has turned him into such a man?” Theodore asked. Reldo shook his head.

  “He has been doing his job since before I was born, Sir Theodore. I do not know his story.”

  A cry went up from the head of the column as they rounded a bend in the pass. It was Drezel’s voice, raised in a cheer.

  “There is Paterdomus,” the cleric said, pointing to the east. In the distance, framed on both sides by the valley walls, a land of trees and bare low hills drenched in evening sunlight extended all the way to a great black cathedral on the river’s western bank, its single tower taller than any Theodore had seen. Beyond that lay a realm in shadow, without feature, as if an artist had first painted the horizon and then smudged it to obscure any sense of detail.

  “Paterdomus. I can feel its power,” Arisha said in awe. “This is what protects the Salve. This is Saradomin’s great work for our age.”

  “And long may it continue,” Drezel said. “But now we must hasten, if we are to arrive before midnight, for a soft bed awaits each of you.”

  He led the column forward, their eagerness to end their journey renewed now that their destination was in sight.

  They rode down into the woodland, east along the King’s Road, and for an hour the tower of Paterdomus disappeared behind the trees and the low bare hills. In the darkness under the boughs, it was hard to see very far ahead.

  Suddenly Theodore went cold.

  If Kara means to run with Gar’rth, then surely this is the place. It’s dark to us, which would not bother them, and there is barely an escort now, since the horses fell ill.

  He hastened forward on his mare and drew alongside Arisha.

  “Kara promised not to run until Paterdomus,” he said. “That was what you said.”

  The priestess nodded in the twilight.

  “Are you certain they do not mean to do so now? It would be easy for them—with the escort halved.”

  Arisha smiled wickedly.

  What is so funny?

  “Did you notice those blue plants that grew in the bailey in the King’s palace, Theodore—the ones with five petals?”

  “No,” he replied. “What has that got to do with anything?” He felt his face flush in anger.

  “I told you I would do what my conscience dictated. Those plants were lupins. I took many of their seeds before we left. Here, can you see them?”

  She held her hand close to his face. Theodore could just make out a light coloured collection of round seeds.

  By Saradomin! What has she done?

  “What are you saying, Arisha?”

  “They can be fatal to horses, but I only gave their mounts a small handful, coated in honey, before dawn. My people understand animals and plants Theodore, and we know what makes them ill. Not all the escorts’ steeds have been affected, and those that have been will recover very soon.”

  “You... but why?”

  Theodore felt his head spin.

  “If they wish to go, then I have given them better odds,” she said. “I have done my duty by them.”

  “Do they know?”

  “Kara might. She knows something of plants herself, but I haven’t told them.”

  Theodore looked down the column to where Gar’rth and Kara rode. They were barely visible in the darkness.

  “You know how impatient she is,” he gritted. “You may have condemned them both!”

  His hand fell to his sword as he galloped up the pathway to Kara’s side.

  “What is it?” Albertus asked, suddenly alarmed.

  I cannot accuse them of planning to run—not yet. Not in front of everyone else.

  “Gar’rth, can you smell anyone?” he asked. “I thought I saw someone in the darkness off the road,” he lied. “We must be sure we all remain together.”

  He stared hard into Kara’s face.

  “We cannot have people wandering from the path,” he added.

  He saw Kara frown slightly.

  “Theodore is right,” Gar’rth said, much to the knight’s surprise. “There is someone nearby. But in front, not behind.”

  “Unless there is more than one,” Despaard said as he drew his sword quietly.

  “They might be pilgrims hiding from us,” Drezel commented loudly.

  “Drezel? Is that your voice I hear?” A man called from farther down the road, to the east.

  “It is I,” the monk called back. “Is that you, Martin?”

  A monk appeared on the road, leading a mule behind him. Despite the gloom, Theodore saw Drezel smile as the man’s face drew close enough to be seen.

  “Martin, what are you doing upon the King’s Road at this hour? It is not always safe.”

  “I have come alone,” Martin said. “We received word of your arrival by pigeon from Varrock this morning, and with it news for your friends. Where is Kara-Meir and the Knight Theodore? For it concerns Ebenezer.”

  “Here!” Kara shouted. “Tell me what word of him?”

  “He has woken, but only briefly. However, his nurses are hopeful now. The message says he woke for the first time for an hour before slipping back into sleep, and that when he spoke he did so lucidly. It seems his mind is still his own, thanks be to Saradomin.”

  “Now there’s a small mercy,” Castimir whispered with relief. At their side Doric gave a joyful cheer.

  “Then come!” Drezel commanded. “This blessed news is an augur of good fortune for the dark road ahead. We cannot be more than an hour from Paterdomus now.”

  The column surged ahead, and Theodore made sure he rode at Kara’s side, separating her from Gar’rth.

  Let them think what they may, he decided. This is to ensure their own safety, to prevent them from acting stupidly.

  It is not a symptom of my jealousy.

  20

  Kara remained silent for the short distance that remained, and refused to talk to Theodore.

  His jealousy is obvious, she fumed. I put aside my conflict with Lady Anne, it is his turn to do so now. We have far more important things before us.

  The ride was even quicker than Drezel had promised, and as the dusk deepened into night and the air grew col
d against her skin, they crested the final hillock on the King’s Road to face the enormity of Paterdomus.

  The temple of Saradomin rose above them into the darkness, its upper reaches impossible to see. A black edifice of towering strength that had long provided the first line of defense against the horrors that lay across the river.

  Kara shared a glance with Gar’rth, and she felt Theodore’s gaze upon her.

  But Gar’rth shook his head near imperceptibly, and Kara loosened the grip on her reins.

  “Can you prepare the blood mark tonight?” Despaard asked Reldo as they approached the great wooden doors.

  “I can, my lord,” the archivist replied. “Though I would be grateful of something to eat first.”

  “You shall have it my friends,” Martin said from the head of the column as he dismounted from his mule. “The monks have been working since they received news of your journey. There is fresh bread, cheese, soups, roasted poultry and even wine.” The young man approached the door and banged the heavy knocker several times.

  “We must try to make contact with Morytania tonight,” Despaard said grimly. “We cannot waste a moment.”

  Reldo nodded.

  “We must test the blood mark, before the embassy proceeds,” he said as several monks appeared in response to Martin’s summons.

  “Then I will cross the river first to see if it works,” Gar’rth said.

  “No, Gar’rth,” Albertus stated as he was helped from his steed by the monks. “It must be a valid test. The recipient must be... human.” The werewolf peered at him for a moment, then nodded.

  The remaining escort took care of the animals as the embassy advanced slowly and with aching legs up the steep flight of black stone steps, then through the enormous doors. Across the cavernous interior stood an altar to Saradomin, larger than any Kara had ever seen. Even Theodore seemed impressed.

  To one side, under the great stone arches that bordered the nave, a long table with a white cloth had been set up, illuminated with silver candles and laden with the food Martin had promised.

  “Many of our order are in Varrock,” Drezel told them as the group was invited to sit and eat. “They will arrive in a day or two with enough supplies to see us through the winter. When the snows come, Silvarea is impassable.”

  “This must be a lonely vigil,” Doric muttered as he took his first drink from his goblet of wine.

  “It has been known to drive men mad,” Drezel noted with a sigh. “There was a time, according to our records, when serving at Paterdomus was regarded as an honour among the youth of Misthalin. Boys would come here, too young to shave, and they would leave as men, having learned to face their fears and to serve their god with honour.”

  Lord William raised a critical eyebrow before hiding his expression behind his wine goblet. Drezel shook his head sorrowfully.

  “I fear Paterdomus has been long neglected by rulers and the people alike. For many, the danger from The Wilderness has surpassed the threat from Morytania. Yet that is a serious lapse of judgement. Few are we who guard the east now.”

  Kara finished her first goblet of wine in silence, she was too tired to talk now. As she buttered her bread, she watched Reldo finish wolfing down his food, then stand and step to the altar. The young man read to himself from a leather-bound book, and then examined a silver knife intently, before turning his attention to a silver chalice the monks had provided that stood upon the altar.

  She had only taken her first spoonful of soup when Reldo looked up excitedly.

  “I think I’m ready,” he announced. “Who wishes to test it?”

  “So quickly?” Ruthven asked sceptically. “You must be certain it is correct.”

  “It is a simple enough ward, in truth,” Reldo explained. “A slight cut on your palm to draw blood, which is then washed in Salve water and blessed by a monk of Saradomin. It serves to demonstrate that the bearer is human, an outsider and that they are to be protected by Saradomin’s blessing.” He handed Drezel a piece of parchment.

  “Are you certain it will work, Reldo?” Kara asked. “At the Parliament you had your doubts.”

  Reldo smiled sheepishly.

  “Usually it is the other way around Kara-Meir. I am often the one who is accused of believing in legends rather than fact, but Papelford gave me this book before we left Varrock. He keeps his own library, you see, one that I am not yet allowed to view.” The archivist shook his head irritably. “It is what he regards as my apprenticeship. I am only permitted to catalogue the works in the palace library, help ascertain their true origin, and build an index of subjects for quicker reference. It is tiresome work.”

  “Which books does he keep in his own library?” Castimir asked with interest.

  “Proper books,” Reldo replied. “Books that are known to be valuable in the war against Morytania. Not the waffle I am forced to wade through—”

  “Enough!” Despaard commanded from the head of the table. “Papelford has toiled for more years than you have drawn breath Reldo. He can be abrasive at times, and highly defensive of his library, but you know how old he is. I doubt he will be with us for too much longer, and then a new archivist will be needed.” He fixed the young man with his dour stare. “Someone who understands the basics, Reldo, someone who knows the books and remembers what he reads.

  “You would do well to prove yourself.”

  Reldo turned away, embarrassed.

  “So who will test the blood mark?” Ruthven asked.

  There was a brief pause.

  “I would not object,” Albertus said. “I am old, yet I am human. If it goes awry, then I have the least to lose.”

  “That is noble indeed,” Ruthven said. “But I would rather send someone who has a decent chance of escape, someone younger. What I propose is this—”

  “Just outside the temple there is a bridge to the other side of the river. The bridge is hallowed ground. Once upon it, the tester will be safe. Whoever chooses to test it will step onto the opposite bank... and wait.

  “Then we shall see how Morytania responds. The bridge will only be a few steps away.”

  “Wait for Morytania to respond? What if no one answers? You could be doing the same thing every night for months,” William observed.

  “There is a gong upon the eastern terrace that overlooks the bridge from above,” Drezel replied. “We can sound that to draw their attention.” The monk shook his head. “I have to say that no one has sounded that gong for many a year. Here, we like the silence, for it cannot be wise to draw the attention of the dead to the living. Nonetheless, who will go to test the blood mark?”

  An awkward silence fell as the party thought on Drezel’s words. Kara saw Theodore look to her briefly, his eyes calm, as if he was reaching the conclusion of a long thought. She saw him turn to Despaard, drain his goblet, and prepare to speak.

  “I will go,” Kara announced, pre-empting Theodore’s words. “I am fast enough—probably more so than anyone else here.”

  “And I shall be behind you, Kara,” Drezel said. “I have crossed before and know what to expect, and I am a fast runner, as well. But we must be cautious, for if the ravenous appear, then I doubt the blood mark will offer any protection.”

  “The ravenous?” Arisha asked.

  “They are vampires who have been driven mad by their hunger,” Drezel explained. “Often they are so old they have forgotten all language and identity, and have been abandoned by their masters to starve in the swamps. They are rarely seen this far north, yet we should still be cautious.”

  “Then the rest of us will watch from the terrace above the bridge,” Despaard said. “The escort has bows and arrows and will cover you as best they can. You just be ready to run, Kara, not to fight. Remember that, no matter what you feel out there.”

  Quickly, ignoring the desperate looks of Theodore and Gar’rth, she stepped to the altar and held her right hand out to Reldo. The archivist held it in his clammy grip, the silver knife hovering above her pa
lm.

  “This might hurt a little...” he said as he made a small cut. Kara watched unmoved as a tiny red line grew in strength. Reldo then washed her hand in water poured from the silver chalice.

  “Now, Drezel, you must bless the mark. Call upon Saradomin to guard her.”

  The monk took her hand and did as Reldo said. He spoke in a language unknown to Kara, and as she turned to her friends she saw that Theodore was speaking in a similar tongue, his eyes closed in concentration.

  “It is the language of the priests of Entrana, Kara-Meir,” Reldo whispered. “Some believe it was the language that Saradomin himself spoke when he lived among us, and that he prefers to hear prayers made in his tongue. I know a little of it myself, as does Sir Theodore, as you would expect of a knight of Falador.”

  After a bare minute, Drezel finished.

  “Let us hope Saradomin heard my prayer,” he said as he led Kara eastward to where a double door was revealed, hidden behind a heavy tapestry.

  ...or else this might be a short embassy indeed, she added silently.

  She could tell by the dust kicked up from the tapestry that the doors had not been opened for a long time. When they were opened inward, a cold blast of air raced through from the outside. Kara shivered as Drezel led her out onto a narrow bridge—so narrow that two people would struggle to pass each other. At waist height an iron railing ran along the bridge’s edge. The land beyond was hidden in gloom, even to her eyes, yet it was no more than twenty yards away. Below, in a deep ravine, the sound of rushing water could be heard.

  “It’s a long drop,” Kara observed.

  “This bridge is strengthened by more than stone, Kara-Meir. This is the narrowest stretch of the river. Have faith.”

  I have chosen Guthix over Saradomin, Drezel. I just hope he’s listening.

  With a deep breath, Kara stepped onto the bridge. Overhead the rattle of a bolt being drawn back told her that her friends watched from above.

  “Don’t go far beyond the bridge, Kara,” Doric called down.

  “I shall sound the gong five times, Kara,” Martin called.